Day 194 – The Rowing Boat

Written in literally twenty minutes because I BOUGHT A NEW LAPTOP!!!!

Word count: 668

Sarah lay back in the small boat, bobbing gently in the rippling water and hidden from sight by the tall reeds. This was her favourite spot in all the world. A weeping willow’s tears of leaves dripped into the water nearby and coupled swans would swoop down and glide over the placid waters. Further round the shore, a rundown boathouse, rust and all, slumped its shoulders on the banks. It was in dire need of a fresh coat of paint, but its charm was immeasurable to Sarah.
Above all this place was quiet. It was far from any streets, bars of nightclubs. There were no cars and there were no sirens. Only nature disturbed itself. Sarah would lie here for hours, reading her books, writing her diaries and dreaming up poems about life, the world and how it was all intertwined. Home was far away from here. Though not another country, it certainly felt like it by this lake. Despite having her own house, her own driveway and her own family, there was nowhere else on Earth that she would call home. Any opportunity she could get, she would come here – even for a few hours upon a rainy Sunday afternoon.

As a child she had come here with her parents: picnics, walks and the usual family routine. The charm, though, had not left her since she was seven years old and she still often believed that fairies lived in these green reeds and tiptoed over the flowering lilies. It was a silly thought and her husband thought her strange and odd, her children simply thought her deranged and mad. Countless times she had brought them to this place; they had never seemed quite as enamoured as she was.
Today, Sarah was alone. There were neither books nor notebooks to steal her attention. She had only her mind and her thoughts to dwell on. As birds scattered from a nearby tree, she closed her eyes and allowed the sun to soak her skin. It was soothing, relaxing: she could just fall asleep. Her mind had been so tired of late; so drawn and exhausted of all energy. Two years she had battled and now was the time to admit that she had finally lost.
Raising her hand to her head, she stroked the patch where her hair used to be. Still, almost two years later, she had never quite got used to the smoothness. Usually she would wear a scarf or some sort of hat, but not today. She wanted to this place to see her how she truly was; the dying old soldier who had grown too tired of war. Her boots were worn out, her rifle was depleted of ammo; there were no more supplies and the storm was coming in fast.
Sarah was happy with this place right now, contentment even crossed her mind. She thought of the sun and how it would look tomorrow; what the weather would be like and if it would rain. She wondered if her daughter would finish that essay and if her husband would ever get the problem with the car fixed. She found it curious that above all, she thought of these things now.
In her left hand she held the foil-sealed packets of pills. Their long name was written across them, but she stared passed the cover and towards the individual pills themselves. White little bullets of death. It would be easier this way, it would be as quiet as the lake itself.
One by one she swallowed them until they were all gone. The boat was drifting out of the reeds now and towards the centre of the lake. A breeze broke through the valley and the leaves of the weeping willow blew majestically into the air; a farewell.
Soon, as like the many times before, she would fall asleep in the boat basking in the warm sun and listening to nothing but the silence. Soon she would be on her way, beyond the rowing boat.